More Than A Pretty Face
by Black Knight 03
Summary: Fleur uses her new powers of persuasion to get into the Ministry of Magic and break Harry out. FD-HP AU starts at the end of HBP.
1. More Than A Pretty Face

Disclaimer – J. K. Rowling owns Harry Potter

A/N – This was written for thematichp on LiveJournal. This is AU, in that I have Fenrir killed Bill at the end of HBP. This was written and posted on my LJ before Deathly Hallows was released. Thanks to my beta, Thoth for her help.

Prompt - Veela have much stronger powers of persuasion than anyone ever knew, and Fleur Delacour is more than happy to take advantage of that fact.

As she began to descend from the rainy street towards the Ministry of Magic, Fleur looked at her reflection in the glass of the telephone booth; sighing softly as a pair of tired eyes looked back at her. _They will pay dearly for this._

_That _thing_ paid for taking my William from me. _

_These fools will learn that was nothing compared to this insult._

When Fenrir Greyback had killed her fiancé, Bill Weasley, during the Death Eater attack on Hogwarts five years ago, Fleur had been devastated. During the Final Battle, Fleur had made sure that that beast had repaid her threefold for her loss. She would always remember the smell of his fur as it burned and his screams of terror, or perhaps insanity, Fleur hadn't cared.

Like so many others, the war had changed her. No longer was she the naïve, slightly vapid, young woman she had been before the Tournament. That all had been replaced by a cold seriousness.

Transferring to the Gringotts branch in Paris, she simply wanted to try and live the rest of her life in peace, and just be left alone. Even five years later, Bill's loss was still painful. Is there even a way to completely get over having the love of your life ripped so violently away from yourself?

Unfortunately, fate had other ideas. Not even a few months after her arrival in Paris, she had received an Owl from Hogwarts Headmistress, Minerva McGonagall. She had been very tempted to simply throw it away, but something possessed her to open it. Professor McGonagall was asking a favor of her; apparently Harry had emerged from the Final Battle in worse shape than anyone had even imagined.

Fleur learned that somehow, upon defeating Voldemort, Harry had absorbed an even larger portion of his power and was struggling for control of his magic. She had remembered reading in the papers, that at some Ministry event, Harry had lost control and caused a great deal of damage and injuries to the crowd.

McGonagall was hoping Fleur would be able to help Harry at least gain a semblance of control over his strength. Being a half-breed, she had to learn something similar for her mostly human body to control her powerful Veela magic. With no intention of returning to Britain, she reluctantly agreed, but only on the condition he come to her in Paris.

She eventually learned that it seemed that his control fluctuated with his emotions. At the time, he was still exhausted and hadn't fully recovered physically, much less emotionally. The Ministry, of course, had always tried Harry's patience. To Fleur, it seemed the most obvious course of action was to get Harry to relaxed and calm. As the booth finished its descent, a small grin appeared for a moment on her lips. _That first month, we spent more time arguing and posturing than any actual training. _

It had taken a long while for either to completely trust the other, but after a two month holiday in Paris, which was what it was called in the Press, Harry seemed to be slightly less stressed and a bit more in control. Of course, once he returned home, the Ministry had come back hounding him again and the problems erupted all over. True to their flip-flop nature, the Ministry began to turn on him again, using the magical flare ups as an excuse to paint him as a possible new Dark Lord.

Remus had quickly taken Harry underground, and eventually to one of the houses the Black family owned in southern France. Officially, taking a vacation, Fleur quickly joined them. Unlike last time, when she had tried to get him to relax, this time, she used a more confrontational approach. They spent a lot of time dueling; the hope was that if Harry started to use the magic, he might gain more control over it. Similar to how a Muggle athlete trains.

Fleur had been an accomplished dueler in school, and while she could defeat Harry in a proper duel, she quickly learned that he was much stronger and more inventive in his attacks and counters.

Emerging in to the Ministry's lobby, Fleur continued to think about that summer. It was the first time in awhile that she had been anything close to happy, and for the first time, she began to think of Harry as a friend. It was funny to both how they originally saw each other and where they were now. For her, she only saw a little brat, playing a game way over his head. For him, a pretty face, but an empty bitch underneath.

Pulling herself from her daydreams, she slowly sauntered forward, smiling softly as her heels echoed on the tiles. _Perfect. No one but the Watchman._ Letting her rain coat open a little to reveal the short dress she was wearing, she approached the security checkpoint.

As the Auror turned to her upon hearing her approach, Fleur released a bit of her Veela attraction magic. "Excuse me," she said in a fake sugary voice, as she resisted the urge to tear the man's throat out as he eyed her up and down. "I was wondering if you could tell me whair ze detention cells are located."

Distracted for a moment, the Auror stumbled over his words. "Uh… The cells… are, umm… Level 5. I'll have to check your wand before you go, though." Not for a moment, did the wizard give much thought to why she was asking this, but simply gave her the answer.

As the Auror's eyes reached hers, Fleur's eyes were glowing a pale blue. "Zere's no need for zat," she said softly, and her smile widened as the wizard nodded dumbly. Her soft French accent wonderfully playing with her power for that extra effect. While she had a much better grasp on the language, often times it was to her benefit to continue using the accent.

"I really must be getting along, but you look awfully tired. You should go take a nap, you've been working far too hard." To complete the act, she giggled softly as the Auror nodded again. "Good boy."

Quickly, walking through the checkpoint, she knew the man was watching her walk away. _Swine._

Turning a corner, she let out a long breath. _Excellent, it works._

Veelas, even half-Veelas, had the ability to charm and attract the opposite sex, but Fleur's ability it seemed had gone far beyond that. She believed that all of her work with Harry had been beneficial to herself as well. Everything she had him do, she did along side. In this particular case, she had refined the attraction magic to something more; for a short period of time, she could almost control someone. The person would appear to enter a drunken stupor and be highly open to suggestions.

Quickly entering an elevator, she headed towards Level 5 and the Auror detention cells.

It hadn't been long since that summer that Harry had moved permanently to the Black Estate in France. Growing tired of everything, he too just wanted to be left alone. Knowing pretty much no one else in the entire country, and with Fleur having no desire herself to spend time with anyone else, the two began to spend more of their free time together. The two casual friends began to grow closer, and now, now they were on the cusp of something. Neither really sure what it was.

It was something that Fleur had intended to discuss with Harry when he had returned from his visit to Britain for Hermione's 23rd birthday. She hadn't been thrilled with the idea of his return as certain members of the Ministry had intensified their efforts against Harry, but she couldn't deny him the chance to see his friends again after being away for two years.

That uneasy feeling she had, turned out to be true as the Aurors launched a surprise raid on Harry's hotel room. While he could've easily dispatched them, she knew he was too noble for his own good and wouldn't kill them or risk another flare up, and injuring others. He was arrested without resistance and taken to the detention cells two days ago.

It hadn't taken long for the news to reach her, and, after calming from her murderous frenzy, she set in motion her plan to release Harry, whether or not he wanted to be rescued. Only two other people had been insane enough to successfully infiltrate the Ministry. One was now dead, killed by the other, and that other was the man she was after. Luck, she hoped, was on her side.

Walking out on to Level 5, _Two__ male Aurors at the end of the hall. Probably need one of them to get through that gate. Arthur was right, they do cut back on their security during meal times._ In the highest breach of security, Arthur had supplied Fleur with the Auror security schedule, the when and where each Auror was scheduled to be. In a stroke of fate, at the time of weakest security, was also the time when it was all male Aurors that Fleur should encounter on her planned route. On the off chance, she met up with a female Auror, she be forced to improvise.

As she approached the two Aurors stiffened. Replaying what she did before, "Messieurs, I was hoping one of you could guide me to 'Arry Potter's cell."

While these two weren't as weak minded as the previous, she was still successful, it just took a bit more effort. As one of the Aurors remained at the gate, slack jawed and staring after her, the other happily lead her through the hallways of the detention cells.

While walking, Fleur kept her influence on him, and soon felt a sharp pain shooting through the back of her head. _Just a bit longer.__ Until we reach Harry._

"Here it is," the Auror said with a flourish as they stopped in front of a solid metal door. "Mr. Harry Potter is locked behind this door. But don't you worry your pretty little head, I'll protect you."

Fighting through the pain to keep her influence upon him, "Why, zank you," she said with a flirtatious smile and giggle. "Would you be a dear and unlock it for me."

Without even thinking about what she asked him to do, he quickly drew his wand, and placing it on the door, traced an intricate pattern. As Fleur heard the door unlock and the door open slightly, her power finally gave out.

As the Auror blinked a few times, trying to figure out where he was as his head cleared, Fleur quickly grabbed the back of his head, and using her Veela power, violently slammed his head into the metal door. Ignoring the sickening thud that his head made as it collided with the metal, Fleur watched the wizard slump to the floor. "Thank you," she said while wincing as her own head throbbed.

Pulling the door opened, she knew she had little time. "'Arry!" she snapped into the dark room, this time her accent coming out of excitement.

"Fleur?" came the rough voice from inside.

"Yes!" Fleur stepped back as Harry emerged from the darkness. Before Harry could ask anything, Fleur had wrapped him in tight embrace.

"How?"

With an honest smile, this time, from his amazement, "I'll tell you later." She quickly found herself pulled tightly against Harry as she heard a spell wiz by, inches from her back. Roughly taking his hand, she pulled a ribbon from her hair and stuffed it into his grip. "There is a lot we need to talk about."

"Apparently."

Quickly grabbing his face, she crushed her lips in to his for a fiery kiss. As more spells fired around them, she released him and whispered the activation word for the Portkey that her hair ribbon had actually been.

Knowing Harry would be safely delivered to the Twins waiting hands, Fleur prepared herself for battle. "Now messieurs," she growled as she drew her wand in one hand, her English becoming very much improved and accent denounced.

As Fleur focused enough energy into her other hand, a fireball began to appear. She slowly began to turn towards her gathering attackers. "You have annoyed me enough these past few days to last a life time. I do not have time for your pathetic little games, especially with a handsome young man, eagerly awaiting my return." Her eyes glowing again, except this time with a deep crimson color, she fell into an attacking posture with wand in one hand and Veela fireball in the other, "Now, how would you like to die!"


	2. Fallout

A/N – In this AU, Year 7 happens pretty much the way it did in Deathly Hallows. The only exception, from Part 1, when Harry defeated Voldemort, he somehow absorbed a good portion of Voldemort's power. Thanks to csitokyo3 for editing.

Part 2 – Fallout

Harry slowly paced around the storage room at the Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, silently fuming about what had just happened. _What the bloody hell was she thinking?_ he snarled to himself and smashed his fist in to the palm of his other hand. _Breaking in to the freaking Ministry, break me out; just to send me off as she gets into a firefight._

Even through Harry's anger, a little voice in the back of his head, chimed in. _Sound familiar?_

"Shut up," he muttered to himself as he turned again and kept pacing.

From a safe distance, Fred and George curiously watched Harry as he paced back and forth. They had been surprised by just how angry Harry had been once he had gotten over the confusion of what had just happened. To the twins, it had almost seemed like he had been pleased to be in holding and the last thing he wanted was to have been broken out. After making sure he was all right, the twins had quickly and wisely backed off upon seeing the state Harry was in.

"I do believe, dear brother," Fred started.

"That we've really stepped in it this time," George finished. Both brothers flinched as a nearby drinking glass shattered.

_Where is she, damnit? _Harry thought as he fought for control of his temper. _I had those bureaucratic dimwits right where I wanted, and then she comes in, wands blazing, and screws everything up. _He stopped his pacing for a moment to press his palm against his forehead, in a vain attempt to stop an oncoming headache that he felt forming. _I told her to stay in France. She would've been safe. This would've taken a week, maybe a few days more._ _Now what the hell is going to happen? Why couldn't she just _listen_ to me! _

_Even for a Veela, those weren't great odds back there. We're talking about at least a dozen, heavily trained Aurors. _Harry's right hand flexed instinctively, and scowled as he remembered that his wand had been confiscated. _If they hurt her,_ he growled and then recoiled as a nearby wooden table splintered in half. _Calm down, focus. Now is not the time to lose control._

As he took a deep breath, he began running through the mental exercises Fleur had taught him. A little bit calmer, he turned to the twins. "All right you two, I want to know what the hell is going on."

"Well, you see," Fred answered. "After news of your arrest broke, Fleur wasn't exactly… _happy_ about it."

"Right pissed off is more like it," George quickly added under his breath.

"She arrived at Mum and Dad's, and said she was getting you out… one way or another. Naturally, for a plan that insane, we offered our services."

Harry rolled his eyes, and muttered sarcastically, "Naturally."

"Dad offered his help as well," George said, taking over the narrative. "We came up with a plan for Fleur to sneak in when security was at its weakest, along with a few choice toys from yours truly. The plan was to get in, find you, and get out. As quickly and quietly as possible." George glanced at Fred, back to Harry. "What happened?"

Everything had been a blur of images. One moment, everything had been quiet in the holding cell, only to be replaced the next moment by a flurry of action. The only thing that seemed clear was the kiss.

Harry was well aware of how attractive Fleur was, even without her powers, and often felt himself admiring her. But he had always done so quietly and from a distance. He had never seriously thought she may have felt something similar towards him. Quickly shaking off the desire to kiss her again, he tried to keep himself in the present. "In this little brainstorming session of yours, did any of you think of talking to Ron or Hermione?"

The twins looked back at Harry awkwardly, as if the most obvious thing had just been pointed out to them. "But," Fred started to ask, but George cut him off.

"You weren't in any danger, were you?"

"I spent a year in hiding from Voldemort, and wasn't exactly quiet about it. I'm stronger now, did you honestly think I couldn't sneak in and out behind the backs of some near sighted fools if I had wanted to?" Harry said rhetorically. Then he exploded in anger. "We set them up! Ron and Hermione knew! It was only a matter of hours before Kingsley sprang the trap!"

Harry had set a trap for his detractors, giving them a bait too tempting to resist: himself. As long as it was just talk, there was nothing anyone could do, but as soon as they did something, the tables could be turned. With the aid of Kingsley, the new Minister, and the new Director of the DMLE, Harry had set the trap and simply waited for them to step in to it.

Which they did, magnificently. Both the order to raid Harry's hotel room and arrest him had been illegal, as there was no proper cause for either act. In addition, the commander who had ordered both was already under investigation by the Unspeakables for improper conduct and bribery. While public opinion was still pro-Harry, his opposition was still trying to raise questions about him and create doubt in the public's mind.

The plan had been once they went public that Harry had been illegally searched and detained, no matter what causes the opposition brought up, Kingsley was positive that public opinion would be firmly behind Harry, damaging the credibility and power of any of their opponents who tried to speak out against them. At the moment, trying to go against Harry would've been political suicide.

At that moment, a loud pop startled them. Turning to the source, the three men watched Fleur stumble forward a few steps and then with her hands on her knees, take a few deep breaths.

Harry instantly rushed over. "Fleur?"

Slowly, Fleur straightened and gave Harry a weak smile. "'Arry," she said softly, relieved. Her raincoat had been burned, ripped, and battered, and there was a long gash on her forehead that was still bleeding.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked, concerned and forgetting for the moment that he was furious with her. He eased her raincoat off her shoulders, feeling her delicate body sway beneath his hands.

Her legs felt weak, and she leaned against Harry for a moment, trying to regain her balance. Wiping the blood away from her eyes, she murmured softly, "I'm fine." Even though she probably could've stood on her own power, something made her not want Harry to let go of her at the moment.

The twins watched them cautiously, and glanced at each other out of the corner of their eyes, both having the feeling this was the calm before an approaching storm.

After a few minutes, Fleur gingerly stood up under her own power and it was then, exhausted and emotionally frayed, that Harry lit into her. Even physically weakened, Fleur straightened up and stood her ground.

As the two argued, practically yelling at each other at the top of their voices, the twins started to feel a physical pressure against them. Looking at each other nervously, they realized that it was Harry and Fleur's magic flaring out and clashing. Both of their magics were tied in to their emotions, and currently, both were pissed off.

"Retreat?" George asked rhetorically.

"Immediately," Fred answered, and the two quickly left the room.

The sparring duo didn't even notice the twins leave, as they were far too focused on each other. With adrenaline making up for her lack of strength, Fleur glared back at Harry. "If you had zis all planned out, zen why didn't you tell me?" she snarled at him, her accent become more pronounced.

"I was trying to keep you safe," Harry snapped back. "The less you know, the better. After what those idiots pulled on me, do you really think I would've let them come after you!"

"I can take care of myself! I zertainly took care of zem today, didn't I?"

"You snuck in and made a surprise attack! Do you honestly think if they had known you were coming, the results would've been the same?"

Fleur practically growled at Harry, and tried her hardest not to lash out and send him into the far wall. Fleur stepped toe to toe with Harry and glowered down at him. While she was normally only an inch or two taller than him, the stilettos she had been wearing gave her a few more inches. Against a lesser man, she would've had them trembling, but Harry simply looked back at her defiantly.

Someone clearing their throat drew their attention away from each other and towards the entrance of the storeroom. "As much as I hate to interrupt," Kingsley said, not even showing a glimpse of how nervous he actually was. "We have a few pressing details we need to discuss." With a small smirk, he watched the pair back away from each other. _Interesting. Looks as if the relationship is more than simply friendly, and far beyond anything resembling teacher and student._

"What are the damages?" Harry asked impatiently.

"Roughly seven Aurors were killed, another six or so injured," Kingsley said softly. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Fleur's reaction, and was pleased to see that she may have regretted the rash decisions she had made. "The Unspeakables are launching an investigation as we speak."

"Wonderful," Harry muttered, throwing his hands in the air and walking around a bit.

"The chief theory is that, with help from an inside source, a group of Death Eaters infiltrated the Ministry and had made their way to the detention level before encountering a group of alerted Aurors. A fight broke out and unfortunately the Death Eaters managed to slip away. We believe they were after someone who was being held down there."

Harry stopped his pacing, surprised and confused, and looked at Kingsley. "Death Eaters?" he interrupted.

What Harry didn't understand, Fleur did. _They're covering it up. But why? _When Fleur had been under attack in the Ministry, survival instincts kicked in and she hadn't given much thought to what she was doing. But now, looking back, she was troubled. She had labelled everyone her enemy and attacked them without mercy, just because of the actions of a few cowards who were really pulling the strings behind the scenes.

Kingsley smiled a little and paused to adjust his robe. "I believe Mlle. Delacour understands," he said after a moment.

Staring off into space, Fleur spoke. "Your _friends_ are covering up what really happened. But I don't understand why?"

"Simple," Kingsley said slowly. "First, with the original trap ruined, we needed to improvise something to make the best of the situation. By suspecting an inside source, records and activities of everyone, especially in the Auror ranks, will be scrutinized. Weeding out the corrupted; our main goal. In addition, once news hits that it was Harry that was the target, who would seek the publicity to that? From his illegal detainment to someone letting in a group of deadly radicals to the attempted attack upon the Hero of the Wizarding World."

"How will you explain my presence? Or Harry's disappearance?" Fleur asked nervously.

"Were you there Mlle. Delacour? I have not heard anything to that effect. As Minister of Magic, you'd think I'd be privy to that knowledge," Kingsley said sarcastically. Then before Fleur could answer, he continued. "Most of the description of the fighting is fragmented at best.

"While some know better," Kingsley said, glancing at Harry for a moment. "Not many will believe that damage was caused by one witch alone," he then added sarcastically, "Especially, not done alone by a _delicate flower_ such as yourself."

Fleur glared at Harry when he, despite himself, snickered at the flower comment. For a brief moment, they forgot they were upset with each other. Kingsley continued, "And second, one of my goals is to protect Harry, and by extension, his interests. If you were charged, regardless of how Harry felt about your actions, do you not think he'd come after you? I believe he would, and his path to you would dwarf the one you just carved.

"Harry's disappearance will be the easiest bit of all to explain," he said in an off the hand manner. "Upon review of everything, Harry was freed and moved to a secure location that until such time, will remain confidential."

During the entire conversation, Kingsley had watched Harry move away from Fleur when he first entered, only to now be standing very close to her side.

"So where do we stand now?" Harry asked, his voice more tired then anything.

"For now," Kingsley said as he searched in an inside pocket, "lay low and relax. By this afternoon, news of this will be everywhere. You'll be able to walk about Britain without having to glance over your shoulder for people looking to blindside you, for a change." Then with a teasing smile, added, "If you wish to return, that is."

Still fishing in his pocket, he pulled out a small silver ball and tossed it to Harry, "When you're ready, turn the top off until you hear a click, and it'll take you two to Grimmauld Place. Kreacher has the place set up for your arrival. Lay low for now, and I'll come by later this afternoon." With a swirl of robes, Kingsley Apparated away.

Harry sighed softly and slowly looked over at Fleur. She was currently slumped against a pair of stacked boxes, her head bowed and looking down at her hands. Reaching out, he gently placed his hand on her shoulder. Harry frowned when Fleur flinched a little before slowly looking up at him.

Looking into her eyes, Harry could see a storm of emotions swirling in them. Worrying about saying the right thing, Harry simply blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "Thank you."

Fleur titled her head slightly, and looked at him in confusion for a moment. He smiled awkwardly back at her, "While it may have ended up as a mess, it's… nice to know that you'd try and help me.

"I'm also sorry about not telling you, I was trying to protect you, in some misguided way. I wanted to keep you out of harms way in case something happened and I wasn't there."

Fleur nodded solemnly, and reached up, took his hand from her shoulder, and held it in between her own. Harry felt an odd chill as Fleur held his hand in her own soft ones, but it never occurred to him to pull it away.

As Fleur spoke, her voice was tired and ragged. "I'm sorry too, I wasn't thinking clearly."

"Well, it's hard to when you don't have the whole story," Harry admitted.

"I guess… I've just gotten so used to you being around, I didn't like it when you were gone."

"Fleur-" Harry started but was interrupted by Fleur.

"No, let me finish," she told him. "I returned to France and threw myself into work, trying… trying to forget everything. I wasn't happy, far from it, and I was lonely, which made me angry.

"Than, I got that blasted letter, and against my better judgment, I tried to teach a little brat self control."

Harry chuckled softly. "How many times did we replace that couch?"

Fleur gave a small laugh too. "Enough times."

"You were such a painful reminder of… everything. I wasn't prepared for that, and it's why things weren't as successful as they could've been at first. Then, the more involved the training became, the more I worked past my own problems. Eventually, I liked having you around. It was nice having someone who I could talk to, or spend time with, without having to explain everything to. They just knew."

Tightening her fingers around his hand, as if it was the only thing that was keeping her anchored to the spot. "When William was taken from me, I shut down inside. Then, you… you sparked something… and when those pigs attacked you, I wasn't going to let it happen again."

"Fleur," Harry started, having no clue what to say to her. Part of him still wanted to throttle her, but another part wanted to hold her.

"I never really did thank you for helping me, especially when you didn't have to," Harry told her. He stood there for a moment, watching an odd reversal of roles. Fleur had helped him, and now, Harry would have to help her.

Harry opened Fleur's hands and in them, placed the small silver ball Kingsley had given him. Finding which way it moved, Harry turned the top off until he heard the click. In the brief seconds before the familiar tug of a Portkey, Harry and Fleur locked gazes and a silent moment passed between them. _No more secrets. We do this together._


	3. Aftermath

A/N – Thanks to my betas, Thoth and csi-tokyo3, for their help with this part. I intended for this story to be three parts, but after some initial feedback, I've decided to extend this for another Part. I've got maybe half a plot figured out for Part 4, but the rest is up in the air, so it won't be along quickly.

Part 3 – Aftermath

Sometime in the afternoon, Harry slowly woke up in the master bedroom of Grimmauld Place. Rolling onto his back, Harry stretched his arms above his head and groaned as he felt his joints pop and his muscles throb from inactivity. _Best I've slept in days,_ Harry mused to himself as he stared up at the ceiling. Arriving at Grimmauld Place, Harry had been impressed with how much Kreacher had done to make the place truly liveable again. After a quick bite to eat, Harry and Fleur had retired to separate bedrooms to get some sleep after the exhausting past couple of days.

As Harry thought back on the last few days, he found his mind wandering to the beautiful blonde that was occupying the room just across the hall from him. Finding himself unable to focus, Harry put off thinking about what had happened. Instead, he began to think about what would happen next, particularly concerning Fleur.

Lying there, thinking about Fleur, a small, goofy smile appeared on his face. He had always been physically attracted to Fleur, but now it seemed to be more than that. There was more to the woman than just a beautiful face. For example, until he had spent some time with her, Harry had no idea that in addition to French and English, Fleur could also fluently speak Latin, Spanish, and Italian, and make a passing attempt at Veelian. She was a natural with Charms, and was a fairly competent Curse breaker. While he was the stronger fighter, Fleur could hold her own against him longer than most.

Folding his arms behind his head, Harry began to wonder just where their relationship stood now. It was far from the teacher-student one that had originally brought them together. They were closer now than the acquaintances they had been, and yet, somehow, 'just friends' didn't fit.

_I may know nothing about women, but when one kisses you like _that_, there is more than just a little interest on their part._ The smile widened on Harry's face as he vividly remembered the kiss Fleur had given him when she had freed him from the holding cell in the Ministry.

Realizing he wasn't doing anything but working himself up, Harry decided to get up and take a bath. Earlier, he had barely enough energy to kick his trainers off as he collapsed on top of the bed. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Harry began pulling his socks off, then, quickly followed suit with his t-shirt. Getting to his feet, he had just tugged his shirt off over his head when he heard a noise coming from the master bathroom.

Instinctively reaching for his wand, Harry swore softly when he realized that it was still gone, having been confiscated by the Aurors when he had been arrested. Taking a steadying breath, he tried to focus himself to try some wandless magic. He'd get maybe one spell off, and who knew if it'd work right, but Harry didn't care. Using the element of surprise, he just needed a distraction at worst.

Nearing the partially open door that lead into the bathroom, Harry heard water splash. He paused at the door, puzzled for a moment. _Cleaning himself up before he attacks me?_

No longer sneaking, but keeping himself ready to attack, Harry opened the door and walked into the bathroom.

For a moment, he was overcome by the fog the heat had caused; apparently someone was taking a hot bath. _At least I'm not wearing my glasses. Damn things would've steamed up in seconds._

"'Arry?" Fleur's soft voice spoke up and drew Harry's attention towards the bathtub.

Standing there, wide eyed, Harry could only gawk as he looked at Fleur lounging in the large, ornate bathtub. Her back arched slightly backwards, giving him a wonderful view of her chest, and a long, toned leg resting on the rim of the tub. Her hair was down, and free, and it being wet seemed to make it glimmer a little.

Fleur seemed very relaxed and at peace as she looked back at him. In fact, there was a small smile on her lips, and a hint of playfulness in her eyes.

"'Arry," she murmured once again. It didn't take Legilimency to know that Harry liked what he was seeing. In fact, she liked what she was seeing. Clad only in a pair of jeans, Harry had certainly filled out his frame in the years following Hogwarts.

It really hadn't been her intention for Harry to catch her in this position; she had simply wanted to take a bath and Harry's bathroom was the biggest in the manor. But Fleur wasn't embarrassed either, she was more than comfortable in her own skin, especially in front of the man she had fallen hard for. In her mind, she had wasted too much time waiting with Bill. Determined not to make the same mistakes with Harry, she was taking a much more forward and direct approach.

"Uh?" he said, finally showing some signs of life. Unfortunately, when he finally relaxed, he lost focus and the spell that he had held in ready fired from his hand. As it struck the floor near his feet, Harry yelped and jumped as the tiles shattered, spraying his lower legs with ceramic. Stumbling back, Harry quickly spun around and faced the bathroom door.

"I'm sorry!" he said in a rush. "I heard someone in here. I didn't know it was you. What are you doing in here?"

At that moment, Harry was a man torn by his hormones and his upbringing. Harry was a young man, barely in his twenties, and single, and here was a striking witch, who was lying naked before him. But, having been raised in such an ultra-conservative household, Harry felt a small bit ashamed that he walked in on her. No matter how flawed, Harry was still a product of his environment and he felt conflicted. Luckily, the more he lived and experienced outside of Privet Drive, the more _he _shaped his ideals. But it was still a work in progress.

Behind him, Fleur was giggling madly, wholly enjoying the spectacle. Harry's blush and rambles had been enough, but the accidental magic had been more than she had hoped for.

Standing up and stepping out of the tub, she watched Harry tremble a little as he listened to her emerging from the water. Fleur grabbed her robe that hung nearby. "'Arry, pass me that towel, please."

Sensing she had just put on her robe, Harry grabbed a towel and slowly turned around. While the loosely tied robe look was slightly more attractive, leaving more to his imagination, Harry was able to stand there like a normal person. At least until Fleur perched a leg on the rim of the tub and began to slowly dry it.

Forcing himself to stand strong, Harry found his throat incredibly dry and forced himself to swallow. "Why are you using this bathroom?" Harry asked again. There was not only a full bathroom attached to the room Fleur had used, but there was yet another down the hall.

"I like this one better," Fleur said while gazing at him over her shoulder. "And, we will be taking about the sleeping arrangements later," she told him as she switched legs. Finishing drying, or in Harry's opinion, openly teasing him, Fleur practically sauntered towards him.

"I'll find us something to nibble on," she cooed suggestively. "In the meantime, you better get cleaned up before the Minister stops by."

Harry inhaled sharply as Fleur's fingertips slid across his chest, and then he felt her warm breath on his cheek. "Enjoy your bath, 'Arry. Let me know if you need help with your back."

_Bloody hell,_ Harry said to himself as he heard Fleur leave the bedroom. Dropping his pants and boxers to the floor, what Harry really wanted to do was chase after the little tart and make her pay. Instead, he knew he would have to settle for a bath. _A rather cold bath._

As Fleur walked from Harry's bedroom to her own, there was a satisfied smirk on her face. _Poor boy really had no chance. But he was adorable with the look on his face. Probably would've killed him had I dragged him into the tub with me. But what a way to go, non?_

Once inside, shedding her robe, she rooted around through the clothes Kreacher had provided, looking for something suitable to wear. _I wasted too much time with Bill. Too many games. This time, I'm not waiting, no playing foolish games with 'Arry. My heart will not be broken a second time._

_Do I love 'Arry?_ She paused, pondering the question with a pink blouse in hand. _I'm not sure, but I am positive that I want to be with him and find out. Who would've thought I would be falling for that little boy from not so many years ago?_

Following his bath and a change of clothes, Harry headed downstairs to the kitchen. Within, he found Minister Shacklebolt and Fleur sitting at one end of the table, conversing in what Harry believed was French, and Mr. Weasley sitting at the other end, enjoying some tea and pastries.

Since Fleur and Kingsley were so engrossed in their conversation, Harry decided to say hello to Mr. Weasley first. The Weasley patriarch still worked for the Ministry, but was now in the Department of Muggle Affairs. That Department was created after the second war to create a better understanding and encourage cooperation with their Muggle counterparts.

"Harry, my boy," Mr. Weasley said weakly, having seen him come in. Standing up, the two men hugged like father and son. "I… I'm terribly sorry about what happened. If I'd only taken the few steps to think, I'd-"

Harry stopped him; he had already gotten his anger out about his plan getting messed up, and he didn't truly blame anyone. "It's not your fault, Mr. Weasley. I should've realized that without telling anyone, I'd have an army beating down the door to help me."

"Well, still, it's good to see that you're alright," Mr. Weasley told him. Even if he wasn't related by blood or marriage, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley would always consider Harry one of their sons.

"It's out there, Harry," Kingsley voice called out from the other end of the table. "Every Wizarding paper, from the _Prophet_ down to the smallest newsletter has some kind of blurb about the attack, and rumours are running rampant about you.

"It was only a matter of hours before the scapegoats began appearing on radar. The Powers To Be are distancing themselves from their agents, realizing it's political suicide to even be associated. While we won't be able to cure the Ministry of the virus, we've at least dealt it a severe blow."

"What about the attack?" Harry asked.

Kingsley smiled, knowing what Harry was asking. "There is nothing that has come out yet that links Fleur or anyone else in our circle to the attack. As far as anyone is concerned, a group of corrupt officials and one or two high ranking Aurors tried to set you up, make you a sitting duck for a pair of Death Eaters. When the Death Eaters showed up, they bungled the operation, making a right mess of it. Exactly what I will tell the press at a news conference later this afternoon."

"Harry," Mr. Weasley said. "What're your plans now? Return to Wizarding Britain? Stay in France?"

"I'm not sure. I really hadn't given it much thought," Harry admitted.

"As much as I'd love to have you return home, Harry, both as a politician and an ally," Kingsley spoke while walking towards him. "Even with your detractors dealt with, you may not find the peace that you are looking for here. Even if I didn't offer you some ridiculous position in the Ministry," he said with a teasing smile. "For the immediate future, you'll be in the spotlight even more, if that's possible."

Harry sighed and ran his hand through his hair. _Wonderful. Like the idiots from the Prophet don't dog me enough as it is._

"Harry, I have an offer for you. I know you hate politics and things of that nature, but you're going to have to deal with them, regardless."

Harry simply nodded. "What's the position?"

"Normally, these positions go to witches and wizards who've spent years in the Ministry or the Wizengamot before being considered for such a post. But with you, I think a special case can be made."

"What is it, Minister?" Harry asked again.

Kingsley took a long breath, taking the pause to confirm with himself that he was making a good decision. "I want you to be attaché to Britain's representatives in the International Confederation of Wizards," he finally told him. "While you are inexperienced, I think you could do a lot of good, and it may do you some good as well. Naturally, you wouldn't be making any important decisions on anything crucial, but just your presence would boost our image that we are trying to change."

"Minister, I must strongly suggest that you reconsider," Mr. Weasley protested. "Harry would be in over his head. Not everyone in the Confederation is as upright as Dumbledore was."

_That's right,_ Harry reminded himself, _he was Chief Mugwamp, or something like that._ While Mr. Weasley and Minister Shacklebolt talked, Harry looked to Fleur who had been unusually quiet. When she looked up at him, there was a conflicted look about her, but she smiled up at him. Harry knew that if he did this, she would be behind him, supporting him in any way she could.

"I'll do it," Harry said interrupting the two older men. "At the worst… it'll be an experience."

"If you're sure, Harry," Mr. Weasley said as he stood next to Harry. He knew the young man was an exceptional young wizard, and held a lot of promise, but he worried that his surrogate son was going to be in over his head.

"Harry will be well prepared before we actually send him to Paris." When Shacklebolt mentioned Paris, Harry quickly looked to Fleur, who gave him a small smile. "Once there, he'll be under the capable guidance of John Long, our Chief Representative to the Conference." A knowing smile crossed Shacklebolt's face. "In addition to that, I have a feeling the Chief Representative from France will take more than a passing interest in our young, future diplomat. Isn't that right, Mademoiselle Delacour?"

The three men turned to Fleur. She stood up, hiding her embarrassment well, and looked directly at Harry. "My father has just recently been appointed the Chief Representative for France, and is rumoured to be in the running to be named the new Supreme Mugwump."

Pulling a small pocket watch from his robes, Kingsley sighed. "We must be getting along, Arthur. Unfortunately, I have that press conference waiting. I'll send an owl in a few days, Harry. For now, enjoy yourself. Oh, and one more thing." Kingsley pulled a wand holster from his robes and tossed it to Harry. "You might want to hang onto that," he told Harry sarcastically, before Apparating away.

Catching it, Harry smiled to himself as he drew his wand from it. An odd sense of relief washed over him. It was like getting an appendage back.

"Harry," Arthur said before he too needed to Apparate away. "Molly wants you… _both_ of you, to come for supper tomorrow. It'll be nice to have the whole family together for once."

Harry smiled. "We'll be there."

Once it was just the two of them, Harry and Fleur walked from the kitchen towards the study. "What do you think?"

"I agree with you. I think at the least, it'll be a learning experience that will only make you stronger. At the very least, Papa will be there to help."

"And you?" Harry asked.

Fleur smiled sweetly at him. "If you want." Standing in the downstairs hallway, Harry and Fleur looked at each other. "So where do _we_ go from here?" Fleur asked.

"I don't know," Harry answered. "But I'd like to find out," he said as he reached out, and wrapped an arm around her waist, drawing her close.

Fleur snuggled in to Harry's side as they entered the study. "Me too."

After Harry had settled on one of the lounging couches, Fleur quickly made herself comfortable in his lap. "I think tomorrow I should start teaching you _ze f__rançais_."

"Oh?" Harry asked sceptically, wrapping his arms around Fleur's waist.

Fleur nodded, and then twisted slightly so she was lying chest to chest against him. "And you'll find, I like to use a hands-on approach to teaching," she said huskily before kissing his neck and letting her hands wander down his shirt.

"So what about the rest of today?" Harry asked.

"Il y a quelques autres choses françaises que je vous enseignerai ce soir," Fleur whispered in to his ear, telling him that there were other _French things _she would be teaching him tonight.

Harry wasn't entirely sure what she said, struggling to translate the French to English. After spending a couple of years in the country, he hadn't picked up that much French. But, from the look in Fleur's eyes, Harry knew he was in for a much better night than last night.


	4. Start Of Something New

Part 2 - Fallout

A/N – Part 4 happens a few months after Part 3. Harry and Fleur have since moved to France, and Harry is ready to begin work with the British Delegation at International Confederation of Wizards. Thanks to Thoth for all her work in helping me finish this story, and especially for her help with the French dialogue.

Part 4 – Start Of Something New

The International Confederation of Wizards is an organization similar that of the Muggles' United Nations. The Confederation was designed to promote cooperation between the various international members, peacefully resolve any disagreements between nations, and to provide other international needs. One of their most significant acts was the creation of International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy in 1692, the act that founded the movement to keep the Wizarding World a secret from its Muggle counterpart.

It was from this view that Harry had entered his new position. While he hated politics, he had the slimmest hope that maybe he could do something. After his first full meeting with the British Delegation to the Confederation, he realized he had gotten hold of the wrong end of the stick. The reality wasn't all that it was hyped up to be.

While they did do a lot of good, that was just a small portion of what they did. The majority, like all other Ministries Harry assumed, was bureaucratic give and take.

Exiting the British Delegations offices, Harry rubbed his temples and hoped the growing headache would simply go away. Once a week, Chief Representative John Long would gather his staff and go over the week's work. One of the items had been an upcoming resolution about decreasing the thickness requirements of the iron in cauldrons sold internationally.

Being his first staff meeting, Harry had made the mistake of innocently asking what difference did losing an eighth of an inch to the thickness of the metal of a cauldron would cause, and was soon bombarded with a lecture worse than any Hermione had ever given him. Also, as a result, Long felt his first task should be to help prepare British Ministry's position and response to the resolution; that the standards for all cauldrons sold internationally and domestic should remain at the current safety limitations.

Walking down the hallway, Harry felt the weight of the leather briefcase Fleur had purchased for him, tugging down on his arm. He sighed softly, knowing inside the amount of scrolls and paperwork that were there for him to review over the weekend. _I thought the weekend was a time for rest?_ he thought sarcastically to himself. _I wonder what I should send Kingsley for a thank you gift for my new position._

Distracted by his thoughts of the spoiled weekend, Harry didn't notice that, as he approached a set of stairs to go down, there was a group coming up the same stairs towards him. The group coming up was comprised of a tall, distinguished looking man, dressed very elaborately. He had a full head of salt-n-pepper colored hair, with a small, perfectly groomed moustache of the same color.

Surrounding this man was a trio of French Aurors, distinguishable by their charcoal cloaks with a small gold fleur-de-lys emblazoned over their right chest.

At hearing rushing footsteps, Harry looked up just in time to see two of them rush at him, blocking his path. Stopping, Harry returned their cold stares. While the two men postured, trying to look intimidating, Harry arched an eyebrow and began to come up with various ways he could dispatch these two fools.

Looking past the two directly in front of him, he saw the other two coming up behind them. The third Auror took a defensive stance towards the other man.

When one of the first two Aurors stepped forward, and tried to push him back, Harry quickly knocked the man's hands off him and dropped the briefcase. As all three Aurors reached for the wands, Harry loosened his control slightly off his power. "I really wouldn't do that," Harry warned in a low, dangerous voice. The Aurors stumbled back a step as they felt the temperature of the hallway begin to dip a little.

Harry watched the Aurors talk amongst each other, in French. He could tell they had no idea what to make of him, and Harry sort of enjoyed that. Too many people underestimated him.

The impressively dressed man, the one who the Aurors seemed to be trying to protect, looked up from the scroll he was reading. He glared at the Aurors around him and then looked at Harry for a moment, before addressing who Harry assumed was the one in charge. "Deplacez-vous le long, je n'ai pas le temp pour gaspillé sur un paysan."

As the Aurors placed themselves between the man and Harry, the group moved past him. Harry wasn't exactly sure what he said, his own French was a work in progress. But he was able to get the gist of it. Whoever this pompous tool was, he didn't have time to waste.

As the party passed him, Harry caught the eye of the man. Harry bristled under the man's scrutinizing glare, and then dismissive finale. Harry suppressed the urge to slice through the Aurors and wring the man's neck. Realizing he was loosing his temper, he took a deep breath to regain full self-control, before picking up his briefcase and continuing on his own way.

As Fleur stood at the window of _their_ apartment, and looked out at Paris' beautiful skyline, she felt like a Princess standing atop a castle. A smile graced her face as she repeated to herself, _their apartment_. While technically not their full time home, that would be the Black's Mediterranean House in southern France, it was still a beautiful place to stay. This apartment was for show mainly, though they could stay here if they wished.

The apartment would serve two basic purposes. For entertaining guests when the need would arise, and Fleur told Harry that they would have to host the occasional party or get together, it was just a part of the game that Harry would have to learn. The second came from something Moody had drilled in to Harry, _Constant Vigilance!_ When returning home, instead of going directly home to the Mediterranean House, they would detour here. They both felt they had every right to be a little paranoid after recent events.

As she gazed out the window, a side of her that hadn't really reappeared until recently, started to take over. While she knew Harry hated the formal parties, Fleur greatly enjoyed them. She grew up in this lifestyle, and it felt natural. She remembered when her parents hosted the parties; her mother was a natural hostess. Fleur had learned so much from her mother, and she looked forward to showing everyone else and her mother that she could do the same, if not better.

As the Floo fire roared in the fireplace, Fleur turned from the window and watched as a tall, distinguished figure emerged from the emerald flames. Smiling, "Papa."

"Darling, little Fleur," Mr. Delacour teased his eldest daughter in greeting while shaking some soot out of his greying hair. Fleur had grown in to a tall, willowy, beautiful young woman, but to him, she would always be his little girl petite fille. Mr. Delacour rubbed his clean shaven face as he laughed as his daughter gave him a playful glare.

"How are you?" he asked her in French. "Settling alright?"

"Yes, Papa."

"So, where is this _boyfriend _of yours?" he asked sarcastically, and noted that his daughter's smile widened just a bit at the thought of Harry. He knew his daughter was strong, intelligent, and capable, just like her mother. But this young man had also brought something out of his darling Fleur. There was a more, subtle, confidence. From the way she talked in a less condescending way, something that he always scolded her for, to the way she moved more with a purpose, instead of showing off.

"He should be along shortly," she responded in French. "The two of you still have not crossed paths at the Hall?" Mr. Delacour shook his head as he walked over to the window where Fleur stood, and the two looked out.

"It has been far too long since I've seen you truly smile," Mr. Delacour told her as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "I just wish it was under better circumstances," he said sarcastically, teasing her yet again.

Fleur rolled her eyes at her father. "He's a good man."

"There is a lot of danger that follows him around. I've heard bits and pieces of what happened in London."

Fleur shifted uncomfortably. Even in her mid-twenties, her father could still lay on the guilt. But there was one other person whom she held in even higher regards, and Fleur really didn't want that person to find out the full extent of what she had done. "Does mother know?"

Mr. Delacour gave her a smirk. "Do you think either of us would be standing here right now, if she knew? She knows what happened to Harry, but not how her eldest daughter decided to wage war to see to his release."

"Not one of my finer moments," Fleur conceded.

Letting go of her, Mr. Delacour walked a few feet over to get a better look at the Arc de Triumph in the distance. "Love makes us do strange things. It took me six months, and many... embarrassing actions, for me to finally win over your mother."

Mr. Delacour glanced at his daughter, "Mother has said you're having some nightmares?"

"A few," Fleur answered dismissively. "They come and go. I think it has to do with my new conditioning. We've been trying some new meditation techniques-"

"It just proves that you have a conscious," Mr. Delacour interrupted, knowing she was making up excuses. "I wish you never needed to get your hands dirty, but even those with the best of intentions have to live with their actions. I think your dreams are more about you trying to come to terms with what happened back there."

"Perhaps," Fleur admitted reluctantly. "Harry said that his own have lessened over the years."

"As will yours," he told her. Their conversation was interrupted by the roar of Floo fire in the large fireplace. "Ah and here comes; the man himself."

As the flames reached their highest and brightest, Harry emerged from them. Standing on the hearth for a moment, Harry shook the soot off him and adjusted his robes. He still much preferred flying, but he was improving on his landings while exiting the Floo or emerging from an Apparition. Putting his briefcase down on the floor, Harry looked up, seeing Fleur standing at the window with another man.

Giving Fleur a puzzled look, Harry looked over at the other man. While the clothing didn't match, everything else did. Harry instantly felt his temper rise as he thought he recognized the man before him as the same man who he met on the stairs.

"Where are your guards, Monsieur?" Harry mocked, while he took a defensive posture. "Or don't you have time for them as well?"

Mr. Delacour didn't know what to make of Harry's words, but knew, even without what his daughter had told him, that he should tread lightly. Keeping his hands open and in front of him, he addressed Harry in almost flawless English. "You have me at a disadvantage, Mr. Potter. To the best of my knowledge, we have never looked upon each other before now." Aside from being the Supreme Mugwump, Mr. Delacour had been in international politics, representing France for decades. He had a command of many languages, much like his predecessor Albus Dumbledore. He was also a large reason for Fleur learning other languages than just her native French.

"Ah," Harry continued to mock. "How quick we are to change our words when we know who we are addressing. "Je propose… que vous… choisissiez vos… mots sagement… la fois prochaine," Harry said, managing to correctly inform him in French that he should choose his words wisely next time.

"Harry!" Fleur scolded, but didn't go further as her father raised his hand to hold her off.

Mr. Delacour had a feeling he understood what was happening, though Harry's reaction concerned him, especially as he was together with his eldest daughter. "Mr. Potter, I assure you we have never met. But if I may, did the man you meet, while appearing similar to myself, also not have a moustache?"

Harry paused as his brain remembered that little piece of information. Straightening up, Harry gazed at Mr. Delacour in a puzzled way.

"I thought as much," Mr. Delacour said with a small nod of the head. "It was not I that you met, but my brother."

"Uncle Philippe?" Fleur asked rhetorically, and Mr. Delacour nodded yes.

"He is always about the Hall. Doing one thing or another for the French Ministry," Mr. Delacour told Fleur in French. He then slipped back into English. "My brother and I do not see eye to eye on some things. If he has offended you, then, on his behalf, I apologize. Philippe can be a bit-"

"Arrogant?" Fleur finished in French.

Harry smirked, and Mr. Delacour gave her a frown, but couldn't hide the amusement in his eyes.

"Well… I…" Harry fumbled for words, realizing he just had made a great first impression.

Mr. Delacour tried not to laugh as Harry shifted uncomfortably. "Perhaps we should try this again, another time." While he still had reservations, from what his sources told him about the young man in front of him, what he had just witnessed was a rare side to him. "Sunday supper. Marié is very interested in meeting you."

Mr. Delacour chuckled softly as Harry groaned and nervously rubbed the back of his head. Walking over, he kissed his daughter's cheek and gave Harry a polite nod. "See you in a few days," he told them before Flooing away.

Fleur glared across the room at Harry, to which he could only give an apologetic shrug. _I'm going to hear it tonight,_ he thought as the pair headed towards the fireplace to Floo home.

The next morning found Harry sitting at the desk in the study, staring at the various documents opened in front of him. Rubbing his jaw, feeling the day's worth of stubble, Harry grumbled as he reached for his cup of coffee.

Fleur had lit in to him last night about how he treated her father, and then given him the cold shoulder the rest of the night. This morning, Harry had woken early, and felt it best to just stay out of the way for a few hours, at least until Fleur had cooled off. Besides, he had work to do.

As he felt his eyelids fall, Harry took a large gulp of the coffee. He sighed as the words seemed to blur together. He was learning far more than he ever wanted to know about the making of cauldrons and their limits. Placing the cup down, Harry slipped his fingers in to his hair and vigorously scratched his scalp in frustration.

Fleur could help him make sense of all this, but Harry didn't think she'd be in very giving mood this morning. Leaning back in his chair, Harry decided a break was in order and he stared off at the far wall.

His heart just wasn't in this, the cauldrons and the Confederation, and he knew that he had no interest in making a career of this. But it was a challenge, and he was never one to back down until he at least tried. Plus, according to everyone else, this was a great learning experience. But at the moment, his mind was working on a way to get to Fleur to forgive him for going temporarily off the deep end last night.

As he thought about Fleur and her family, his mind briefly wandered to his own family. He wondered what had happened to them after the War. For a moment, he thought of his Uncle. _If there is a pound to be made from a deal, I'll be damn certain I get a piece of it, _Harry remembered his Uncle saying often at the dinner table. It was then that something clicked. _The safety standards have been in effect for decades, why would someone want to suddenly lower them?_ he asked himself rhetorically.

"Because someone is looking to profit," Harry muttered to himself as he quickly jerked up right in his chair and began rifling through the scrolls.

So wrapped up in trying to prove his theory, he failed to notice Fleur standing in the hallway, just outside the study. Leaning forward against the doorframe, Fleur smiled softly as she watched Harry hard at work.

Any hard feelings she may have had from last night were fleeting at best. When she had awoken this morning, she was surprised to see him not there. After a moments search, she was happy to find him at his desk, at least looking like he was trying to do some work. Stepping away, Fleur didn't want to interrupt just yet. She'd give him an hour or so, and then they'd have some breakfast and talk.

Sunday afternoon found Fleur strolling through the large flower garden on the Delacour estate. Reaching out, she gently touched the petals on the roses that had started to bloom. Her talk with Harry yesterday hadn't gone as expected. _It's that damn lost, little boy look,_ Fleur thought to herself, with a hint of sarcasm. _The worst part is that he doesn't even know he's doing it._

Even before Fleur could start to calmly discuss what happened the night prior, Harry began talking about Representative Long, cauldrons and their thickness, and finishing with a theory that someone had to be making a profit of this, one way or another. She had been impressed with the work Harry had put into it, and for the rest of the day, she became distracted by helping and coaching Harry with his case and line of reasoning.

Glancing across the garden, she grinned wickedly while watching her mother interrogate Harry. _I think being raked over the coals by mother is punishment enough for the poor boy,_ Fleur thought to herself rhetorically, as she watched Harry shift uncomfortably as her mother patiently waited for an answer to something she had asked.

Turning her attention from the pair back to the rose bush in front of her, _Dinner had gone well. Father seemed to have taken Harry's outburst in stride. I hope Harry impresses him, should they work together on something. Harry is intelligent; I just don't think he's ever had the encouragement to work to his abilities. _Gently cupping a rose, Fleur brought her nose to it and smiled as she inhaled the scent.

"This garden is amazing," Harry said, and Fleur could hear his soft footsteps approaching.

"I see Mother left you reasonably intact," Fleur kidded him as she stood up from the bush. "I guess this time you didn't put your foot in your head." When she noticed Harry's lips twitch, she knew she had said something wrong. "What?"

"It's foot in your mouth," Harry said, trying to hide his amusement. Fleur's English was improving vastly faster than his French, but English was a tricky language.

"Langue stupide," Fleur huffed in French, complaining once again about English slang. Harry smirked; he didn't need to know French to understand what she said.

"Well, zen," she told him, allowing her accent to become more pronounced. "I guess you will just 'ave to work harder on your French, so we can talk in a _civilized _language."

"Oh, really? And what's so special about French?"

Fleur grinned at him, reached out, and gently trailed her index finger down his chest. "Because 'Arry," she said, loving to say his name that way, "it is also a more romantic language."

Harry felt his throat go dry as he read the look in her eyes._ Bloody hell._

_The proper motivation, _she thought to herself, amusedly. It just so happened that the proper motivation may also be mutually beneficial.

Regaining his senses, Harry smirked a little. "Should we rejoin your parents, or perhaps have a lesson right here?" he asked suggestively, taking her hand and gently pressing it against his lips.

Now it was Fleur's turn to be caught off guard. Rarely, and not until recently, did Harry ever make the first move or say or do anything suggestive. When she saw this side of him, it was a turn on and she wanted to see this part of him more often. It also didn't hurt that he had also struck on a fantasy of her's for her lover to have her in her parents' beautiful flower garden. But he didn't need to know that, yet.

"As tempting an offer as it is," Fleur managed to say. "I think we should head back for dessert."

As they walked back, hand in hand, to the manor, Fleur could tell Harry was distracted about something. "'Arry?"

He glanced up, and she gave him an inquiring look. He smiled back. "Just something your mother asked me. Even though I don't say it, you know that I think you're more than just a pretty face, right?" Fleur nodded; he didn't have to say it, she could tell by the little things he said. "I just wanted to make sure."

"'Arry," Fleur said, "I think you're more than just a scared little boy." She giggled softly when Harry pretended to glare at her. "Come, my champion, you must try my mother's pastries."

Harry smiled as Fleur sped up and began to tug him along. The woman always surprised him with a new wrinkle or dimension to her self that Harry would never expect. She constantly proved that she was far more than just a pretty face. While he still didn't know what he wanted to do with his life, life wasn't wrapped up in a nice pretty bow or given with a map of where and how to go, but Harry knew that he wanted Fleur with him. _Tomorrow's a big day, for us. It could be the start of something great._

"'Arry?" Fleur's voice cut though his thoughts again, and once again he smiled at her.

"It's nothing. Come on, we better not keep them waiting," Harry told her. _Even if it's for me, she'll still be there, and we'll move on to the next thing._


End file.
